


The Witcher and His Bard

by toyhto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward masturbation scene, Crack-ish, Geralt is being a bit of an idiot, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also smut, i don't know what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22351987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: It's not like Geralt has missed Jaskier. But when Jaskier gets himself kidnapped, Geralt goes to rescue him and keeps him safe afterwards.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 92
Kudos: 665
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	The Witcher and His Bard

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to happen after episode 6 of the Netflix show. I'm sorry that I'm not more sorry but really, Geralt is a bit slow in this. Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

It had been some time since Geralt had lost his bard. He didn’t miss the bard. Especially not in the woods at night, when it was cold and quiet, and no one was sniffling in their sleep. And not on the roads, where it was cold and quiet, and no one was singing their stupid songs. And not in an inn where Geralt took a bath in a cold and quiet room, and no one offered to wash his back. And not in a cold and quiet bed, where no one woke him up to ask him what they were going to do tomorrow.  
  
So, Geralt didn’t miss his bard. Then, after another unsatisfying bath and a very quiet night, he woke up in a tiny room in an inn in an unpleasant village and heard that his bard had been found. He wasn’t glad at all.  
  
“How do you know it’s Jaskier?” he asked the man who had just told him that his bard had been kidnapped a day’s ride to North from here.  
  
“He only sings songs about you,” the man said.  
  
Well, that sounded like Jaskier. It was unfortunate that Geralt would have to save him now. Jaskier was Geralt’s bard, and certainly he couldn’t let someone kidnap his bard and get away with it. And it wasn’t exactly Jaskier’s fault that he was so goddamn irritating and sniffled in his sleep and kept wanting to touch Geralt’s hair.  
  
“And where did you say he was kidnapped?” Geralt asked.  
  
The man looked happy. He was probably wondering how much Geralt would pay him for the information about his bard. He was going to be disappointed. “He was on the Backside Road, near to the Narrow Bridge.”  
  
“Thank you,” Geralt said and walked past the man, then remembered something and turned. “He’s not my bard anymore.”  
  
“How about my -,” the man started, but that was when Geralt closed the door. His bard was in trouble. He was going to fix it, and then he would tell the bard to get lost. He liked his life cold and quiet, thank you very much. The bard could find someone else to sing about.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Roach wasn’t exactly happy to be woken up so early in the morning and in such a rush. Geralt apologized twice, but she was still grumpy when they were galloping across the fields of heather. It was a beautiful morning. If Geralt hadn’t lost his bard, the bard would’ve told Geralt over and over again that Geralt should _take a breath_ and _look at the scenery_ and _stop sulking._ It was great that the bard wasn’t here and Geralt could ignore the beauty of the heather in the early morning sun, exactly like he had done all his life before he had met his bard.  
  
He rode for the whole day, and the more he rode, the more anxious he became. Perhaps that was because he was getting closer to seeing his bard again. He hadn’t missed the bard at all.  
  
When he finally found the tracks of whoever had kidnapped his bard, it was almost nightfall already, and Roach was getting tired. Geralt told her that they had to find Jaskier tonight. Then they could get rid of the bard for good and keep living their lives in a pleasant solitude. No one would ask them if they were hungry or tired or wanted to share a bed for the warmth. Roach looked at Geralt as if she wasn’t certain what Geralt was talking about. That made sense. Jaskier never wanted to share a bed with _her._ The horse was so lucky.  
  
So, Geralt rode the whole night as well, just so that he could finally get rid of his bard. He followed the tracks to the valley where the trees were high and moving quietly in the wind. That was exactly the kind of a thing his bard would have pointed out. Geralt watched the trees swaying in the early morning light. He wished his bard wasn’t too scared, having been kidnapped alone.  
  
It turned out his bard was very scared.  
  
He found his bard tied to a tree. Jaskier had bruises on his face and he looked like he was certain he was going to die. The morons who had kidnapped the idiot were sitting on the ground, smoking and talking rudely about the bard’s singing. Geralt left Roach waiting further down the path and then approached the clearing quietly. He would save his bard, make certain he was alright, and then get rid of him. That was a good plan.  
  
He tried to avoid killing the men who had kidnapped his bard, but Jaskier sounded so happy about seeing him that he got a bit distracted and killed one. Then he focused and only knocked the two other men in the head so that they fell unconscious to the ground. He could kill them later if it came to that, but now the most important thing was to make sure his bard was alright.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, when Geralt walked to him, “thank god you came.”  
  
“I heard you had been kidnapped,” Geralt said, facing his bard and stroking the hair off his face. The bruises looked bad. “Are you hurt?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said and grimaced, “I don’t know, maybe a little. They kicked me a bit. And talked about what they were going to do.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. Perhaps he should have killed the men after all. He took his bard's face in between his hands, just to check that nothing was broken.  
  
“Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Can you maybe untie me? I’m a little uncomfortable here.”  
  
Geralt blinked. It seemed that he was stroking his bard’s cheeks with his thumbs and his bard was still tied to the tree. “Of course.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jaskier said and almost fell onto his face when Geralt cut the ropes. Luckily, Geralt managed to catch him in his arms. He had always known his bard was light of weight, but now it was like holding a newborn foal.  
  
“Have you been eating lately?” he asked, carrying Jaskier to Roach.  
  
The bard rested his face against Geralt’s shoulder. “What? Can’t you carry me?”  
  
“I can carry perfectly,” Geralt said. “But you haven’t been eating properly. You’re light like a foal.”  
  
He felt the bard sighing. “Geralt, I’m not a foal. I’m a _man._ ”  
  
Geralt snorted.  
  
“I should be so angry at you,” Jaskier said, “for leaving me and then comparing me to a horse, but I just can’t bother because I’m terribly glad to see you. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone. I thought I wasn’t going to see you ever again.”  
  
“You weren’t,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier didn’t answer. Well, that was worrying. The bard always answered. He was still breathing, though, so his silence wasn’t due to a sudden death. Geralt shook him a little and got a quiet groan out of him. “ _Geralt._ ”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“You hurt me.”  
  
Geralt frowned. Roach was standing in the path, waiting for them, and he thought about lifting the bard on the horse but then chose against it. Roach was tired and Jaskier weighted nothing. Geralt could easily carry him for an hour or two. “I didn’t hurt you,” he said. “Those men hurt you.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice, “I meant, you hurt me when you told me to fuck off.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. “I was annoyed by you.”  
  
“Yes, well,” Jaskier said and then fell silent.  
  
“I was annoyed by you,” Geralt said again. It was too quiet. His bard always talked. “I was disappointed in myself and in the world and life and everything and you were there and you were being annoying.”  
  
He felt Jaskier taking a deep breath. It wasn’t completely unpleasant to hold the bard in his arms, pressed safely against his chest. The bard was warm, and Geralt had been very cold lately. “I was trying to...” Jaskier said and paused. “I was trying to be your friend, Geralt.”  
  
“I know.” But he didn’t need friends. And he had told Jaskier that many times.  
  
“I thought we were friends.”  
  
“You have been mistaken before.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said in a soft voice. Geralt wished he wasn’t going to pass out. “I suppose I thought you didn’t mean it, you know, when you said you didn’t need me. I always thought you didn’t really mean it, that you were just too stubborn or lonely or something to recognize that you actually liked me a little.”  
  
“I don’t need you,” Geralt said and held the bard a little closer to himself. His arms were getting tired and he realized vaguely that he had been riding for the whole day and the whole night without sleeping. “But you need me.”  
  
“Geralt -,” Jaskier said. He always said Geralt’s name differently than the others, like he just wanted Geralt to _be there_ , not to _do something_ for him.  
  
“You need me now, because you have been hurt,” Geralt said. “I need to make sure you’re alright. We’re going to ride to the closest village and then we’re going to stay there until you’ve recovered.”  
  
He thought he heard Jaskier opening his mouth. His bard was sad, he could feel it and he could smell it. But he didn’t know what to do about it. He had saved Jaskier from the attackers and that was all he could do.  
  
“Fine,” Jaskier said to Geralt’s shoulder. “Until I’ve recovered.”  
  
  
**  
  
  
The closest village was just a bunch of houses along the road, but there was an inn. People stared at them when Geralt carried Jaskier the stairs up and placed him on the bed. The room was small but at least there was a hearth. His bard sniffled in the cold. He set the fire and then undressed Jaskier and inspected his injuries. The most of it was bruises that would heal with time, but there was also a broken rib and a cut on Jaskier’s arm that worried Geralt. And Jaskier was sniffling.  
  
“Are you cold?”  
  
“You stripped me naked, what do you think?” Jaskier asked, but he didn’t sound angry. “Can you stop poking at my bruises and give me a blanket or something?”  
  
“I wasn’t _poking at your bruises._ ”  
  
“I wasn’t complaining,” Jaskier said, “it’s just, maybe you could do it later, when the room wouldn’t be so goddamn cold anymore.”  
  
Geralt wrapped him in two blankets and then drew him a bath. When the bath was ready, he took the blankets off and lifted Jaskier up in his arms, and Jaskier muttered something about lost pride which didn’t make sense at all, because certainly the bard had never had pride in the first place. Geralt put him in the bath and then carefully cleaned the dirt and the dried blood from his skin. He was so concentrated on washing Jaskier’s face that it took him a while to realize the bard was talking again.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“If you touch my dick, I’m going to punch you in the face,” the bard said, leaning his face to Geralt’s hands.  
  
Geralt frowned. “Why would I touch your dick?”  
  
“I’m certain you wouldn’t,” the bard said.  
  
Geralt thought about that for a while. His bard was so illogical. “Do you want me to touch your dick?”  
  
Jaskier laughed. Geralt stroked his hair that still had mud in it. He was quite pleased about the fact that his bard was well enough to laugh. That meant he could get rid of his bard soon.  
  
“Geralt, you’re an idiot,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt thought about arguing but decided against it. It didn’t matter what his bard thought of him. At least the bard was alive and right here with Geralt, naked in the bath, sighing when Geralt stroked his hair.  
  
  
**  
  
  
The bard sniffled in his sleep. Geralt was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell was wrong with his bard. It wasn’t even cold in the room. Perhaps his bard had a fever. It was probably for the best that he checked. He wasn’t going to let his bard die, not now that he had just saved him.  
  
He knelt on the floor next to the bed and placed his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier woke up with a sharp breath. “What -”  
  
“It’s alright,” Geralt said, because clearly his bard was afraid of something, “it’s just me. Geralt. It’s me, Geralt.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him in the dark as if he couldn’t believe he was Geralt. “Really?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, “or have you gone blind?”  
  
“Oh, thank god,” Jaskier said, blinking. “Why did you wake me up?”  
  
“You were sniffling,” Geralt said, putting his hand on Jaskier’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
“Something’s wrong. You can’t be cold, it’s not cold in here. Are you in pain? Do you need me to do something?”  
  
“I’m fine, Geralt,” Jaskier said, placing his hand on Geralt’s. It was almost like his bard had been holding his hands. Geralt cleared his throat. “Really. Just let me sleep,” Jaskier said.  
  
“But you keep sniffling in your sleep,” Geralt said. “I’m going to come to bed with you.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“So that you won’t be cold. That’ll take care of the sniffling.”  
  
“You don’t have to,” Jaskier said, but he shifted a little as if he was making room for Geralt.  
  
“I don’t want you to be cold. You’re just a human, after all.”  
  
“That’s true,” Jaskier said. “And you _are_ hot.”  
  
“It’s because of my mutations,” Geralt said. “My body temperature is higher than yours.”  
  
“I know,” Jaskier said and then took a deep breath, when Geralt settled in the bed next to him. When Jaskier didn’t shift closer to him, he wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s back and drew him closer. Jaskier was still naked, which was good. It would be warmer this way. “I missed you, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his face now pushed against Geralt’s shoulder, obviously for additional warmth.  
  
“You’ve always been a little weird,” Geralt said.  
  
“I missed you a lot.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“I’m not going to sniffle now,” Jaskier said.  
  
He sniffled, though. But it was alright. Geralt held him in his arms and stroked his hair until his own eyes grew tired and he had to close them for a moment.  
  
He woke up to a feeling that something was wrong. He reached for his sword, but it turned out that his bard was lying on his chest, alive, intact, and asleep, and there was nothing in the room that could be a threat to the bard’s well-being. Geralt stroked the bruise on the bard’s cheek with his thumb and then realized what had changed.  
  
His bard had stopped sniffling.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He tried to find his bard’s favorite food – it was important that Jaskier ate well now that he was still recovering. The tricky thing was that Jaskier had told Geralt many times about the food he liked and the food he hated and everything in between and everything else as well, and Geralt hadn’t listened. No one could blame him, though. The bard talked _so much._ There was no way Geralt should have known it was important to listen. But now he took everything he could get in the inn to their room until finally he found something Jaskier ate happily. At that point, Jaskier was looking at him a little oddly, but he ignored that.  
  
“How are you feeling?” he asked and sat down on the edge of the bed to watch Jaskier eat.  
  
“Not bad,” Jaskier said. “I’m not really hungry, Geralt.”  
  
“You have to eat. You are injured.”  
  
“Fine,” Jaskier said and then took a deep breath. “Are you… Do you have…”  
  
Geralt waited for him to finish it. Jaskier always finished everything he said, especially the things that he shouldn’t have been saying in the first place. But this time, he was quiet for a while and then stuffed his mouth full of cake and started chewing slowly, staring at his own hands. “Jaskier? What were you going to say?”  
  
Jaskier shook his head.  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“I just…” Jaskier cleared his throat. “Are you going somewhere? Today? Maybe you have a monster to slay nearby? Is that why you stayed the night with me?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “No?”  
  
“I’m not going to slay monsters for a while. I have to take care of you.”  
  
Jaskier looked a little surprised. “And why would you do that?”  
  
“You are my bard,” Geralt said. “I thought that was obvious. Eat more.”  
  
“Geralt -”  
  
“And stop talking. You talk too much.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jaskier said. He was staring at Geralt as if he couldn’t believe Geralt was there. Maybe he had a fever now. Geralt tried his forehead. The bard’s skin didn’t feel feverish against his touch, only soft and warm. Very soft, and very warm. “Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?” Geralt asked, not bothering to pull his hand away.  
  
“I’m a little worried about my side,” Jaskier said, “you know, about the broken rib. I’m afraid it may have punctured my lungs in my sleep. Could you check?”  
  
Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s shoulders and then realized he wasn’t supposed to shake his bard when the bard was injured. “What? _Punctured your lungs?_ Don’t you think you would’ve noticed that?”  
  
“I’m sometimes a little slow,” Jaskier said and licked his lips. Maybe he was still hungry. But the other issue was much more urgent, so Geralt lay the bard down on the bed again, turned him onto his side and, as gently as he could, rolled the bard’s undershirt up and felt his side with his hands. The bard took a deep breath and then winced in pain, and Geralt held his palms steady against the bruised skin. There was still the broken rib in there, but nothing had been punctured, which made Geralt feel much better. He kept on stroking Jaskier’s side for a moment, just to be sure, and Jaskier kept breathing. It was quite satisfying.  
  
  
**  
  
  
In the afternoon, Gerald had to leave the room to go to see Roach. She was perfectly happy in the stables, though, and he promised her they would leave as soon as the bard got better. Then they could get rid of the bard. Roach looked at him as if she thought he didn’t make any sense, and he realized vaguely that his voice had gone pretty grim. Then he told Roach that it would probably take a while and that cheered them both up.  
  
On the way back to Jaskier, the innkeeper came to talk to Geralt. The man wanted to know what Geralt was doing in the upstairs room with his bard for all night and all day, and Geralt told him with almost divine patience he had perfected over the years that the bard was injured and they’d be staying for a while. The innkeeper kept eyeing him suspiciously, but then again, people always were like that. They never trusted him. Except for Jaskier, of course.  
  
When he finally got rid of the innkeeper, climbed up the stairs and pushed open the door to their room, he found Jaskier lying on his back in the bed. That wasn’t surprising at all. The surprising part was that Jaskier had pushed the blanket to his ankles and was holding his dick in his hand.  
  
“Shit,” Jaskier said, turning to stare at Geralt. He looked almost as shocked as when a ghoul had tried to strangle him. “Shit, shit, shit, I thought you weren’t going to be back for a while. I thought I’d had time to… _Shit,_ Geralt, can you stop staring?”  
  
Geralt crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing?”  
  
“What does it look like?” Jaskier said and then put his other hand down to cover his dick as well, which was obviously unnecessary. Geralt had seen his dick before and he had an excellent memory. “I have _needs_ , Geralt. And you’ve been poking at me and stroking me and goddamn _cuddling_ me. I’m merely a human, you know that.”  
  
“I’m well aware that you’re merely a human,” Geralt said. “It’s hard to forget.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and cleared his throat. “Can we talk about my humanity some other time?”  
  
Geralt took a step forward. “When?”  
  
“ _Later_ ,” Jaskier said, looking oddly nervous. “And why are you still here?”  
  
“This is my room,” Geralt said.  
  
“I’m trying to jerk off, you idiot,” Jaskier said, but he didn’t sound angry. He didn’t smell angry, either. Geralt walked closer to him and then stood there next to his bed. His bard smelled nervous and confused and more than a little aroused. “ _Geralt._ ”  
  
“You don’t really want me to go,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier closed his eyes for a second, sighing. “No, I don’t. Bloody hell, I’m an idiot.”  
  
“No,” Geralt said. “And it’s good that you don’t want me to leave. The innkeeper wanted to know what we’re doing in here. He’s suspicious. He’s going to ask me questions if I leave now.”  
  
“Really,” Jaskier said.  
  
“I should stay,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier licked his lips and then rested his head against the pillow. He was breathing hard and still holding his dick with both of his hands, even though certainly one would have been enough. “Okay. Are you going to… are you going to just watch?”  
  
“The bruise on your chin,” Geralt said, “it’s looking worse than yesterday. I should check it.” Then he climbed on his bard, his knees on the sides of the bard’s fragile human body, and leant down to take the bard’s face in between his hands. Jaskier was staring at him with his mouth half-open. When Geralt poked at the bruise on his chin, he startled a little. “It’s fine,” Geralt said. “I thought you said you were trying to jerk off.”  
  
“I was,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Go on, then,” Geralt said. “I’ll be here.”  
  
“You’ll be _here,_ ” Jaskier said, his eyes moving back and forth on Geralt’s face. “You’ll be _on me_ when I jerk off.”  
  
Geralt nodded.  
  
“That’s just…”  
  
“To make sure you won’t hurt yourself.”  
  
Jaskier bit his lip. “Geralt, you are…” But he didn’t tell Geralt what he was and got back to stroking himself instead.  
  
It didn’t take long. Jaskier was looking at Geralt as if he was worried Geralt might disappear. It was ridiculous. Geralt was kneeling over him and couldn’t have left easily even if he had wanted, and he didn’t want to. He stroked Jaskier’s face and Jaskier sighed, sounding happy. At that point he was trembling quite a lot. Geralt watched him as he came with a soft grunt.  
  
“Oh, fuck, Geralt,” he said, “this is… _fuck._ ”  
  
“Don’t move,” Geralt said, “I’ll clean you up.”  
  
“You’ll clean me up,” Jaskier said in a weak voice.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Geralt, that’s kind of… intimate.”  
  
“Just wait here,” Geralt said, climbed off him and went to fetch a clean cloth.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Geralt?”  
  
“Hmm,” Geralt said. He had been almost asleep. It was very inconvenient that his bard was now wriggling in his arms and clearly trying to talk to him.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, “are you asleep?”  
  
Geralt took a deep breath but didn’t open his eyes. “Yes. Are you in mortal danger?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt peered open one eye and checked. Jaskier seemed sufficiently alive. The room was clear of monsters. Everything was alright. Geralt closed his eyes again. “Wake me up if you’re about to die.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and shifted closer to him. Geralt sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around the bard. At least his bard’s toes against his leg were now warmer than when he had joined the bard in the bed at nightfall. “Geralt, why are you hugging me?” Jaskier asked, his mouth close enough to Geralt’s neck that Geralt could feel the warmth of his breath.  
  
“I’m not hugging you. I’m just holding you in my arms.”  
  
“Fine,” Jaskier said. “Why are you holding me in your arms? You said you wanted to never see me again.”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. “I was…”  
  
“What?” Jaskier asked. “You were angry? You were frustrated? You were bored of me? Or was it a joke? Because I thought –“  
  
“I don’t do _jokes_ ,” Geralt said.  
  
“So I thought,” Jaskier said moved his feet in between Geralt’s. “And that’s why I kind of believed you.”  
  
“I was…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. “Perhaps I was wrong.”  
  
He felt Jaskier freeze in his arms. “What did you say?”  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
“No, I didn’t,” Jaskier said. “Just say it again.”  
  
“I said that perhaps I was wrong.”  
  
“Oh my god.”  
  
“Stop that,” Geralt said and squeezed his bard a little.  
  
“What does it mean?” Jaskier said to the cook of Geralt’s neck. “What’s going to happen next? Where’re you getting with all this hugging? Because I swear to you, Geralt, I don’t care that you’re the most interesting man I’ve ever met and that you’re fascinating and incredible and terribly handsome and hot and you have amazing hair. If you leave me once more, I won’t fucking speak to you ever again.  
  
“I’m not a man.”  
  
“Bollocks,” Jaskier said and apparently tried to kick Geralt in the groin, but Geralt stopped his knee and then stroked it for a while.  
  
“Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terrible if we travelled together for a while,” he said.  
  
“Really?” Jaskier asked in a quiet voice. “You like my knee?”  
  
Geralt let go of the said knee and Jaskier pushed it in between his thighs. Well, their legs had been quite entangled already, so it made no difference. He stroked the bard’s hair and waited for more complaints, but Jaskier only sighed a couple of times and then after a while, fell asleep.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Geralt said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He woke up in an empty bed. He grabbed his sword and stood up, and then he realized his bard was a few feet away from him, apparently trying to sneak out.  
  
“Holy fuck, you sleep light,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
  
“I’m alright, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “Where are my clothes? I need fresh air.”  
  
“I can open the window.”  
  
Jaskier looked at him with a frown. “Geralt, tell me where you’ve hidden my clothes.”  
  
“Under the bed. You aren’t well enough to go out.”  
  
“I’m just going to say hello to Roach.”  
  
“There’s no need.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and picked his clothes up from where Geralt had stuck them, “you’re an idiot sometimes. I hope you know that.”  
  
“I already lost you once,” Geralt said and bit his lip, but it was too late. He wasn’t certain why he had said that and Jaskier obviously wasn’t either, because he was staring at Geralt with his mouth half-open.  
  
Finally, Jaskier took a deep breath and started putting on his clothes. Geralt had had them cleaned and mended. “Last time,” Jaskier said, his hands shaking a little, which probably meant he shouldn’t have gotten out of the bed at all, “you wanted to lose me. You told me to go and I went.”  
  
“I apologized for that.”  
  
Jaskier frowned. “When? I don’t remember.”  
  
“Last night. You were asleep.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Geralt,” Jaskier said, but he didn’t look angry. “I don’t understand why I like you. I must be mad. I’ll just be a minute. I won’t disappear.”  
  
“I’ll come with you,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier stared at him. He stared at Jaskier. There was something comforting about staring a person with whom you had shared a bed and whom you had held in your arms so tightly that for a moment you had been scared you had squeezed him to death by an accident. Geralt swallowed and tried not think about that too closely. Or maybe it was just that Jaskier had a nice face.  
  
“Fine,” Jaskier said. “You can come with me. But I hope you know you’re being silly.”  
  
They went to see Roach. Roach was glad to see Jaskier, and Geralt stood aside and watched them. It might be difficult to leave his bard now that his horse had gotten so attached.  
  
  
**  
  
  
That night, he told Jaskier to strip and then inspected all his injuries. His bard was healing quite well, only there were new challenges with his breathing. No matter how gently Geralt stroked his bruised skin, he seemed to have trouble catching his breath. Also, he was aroused the whole time. But Geralt wasn’t worried about that. That was normal for his bard.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said in a somewhat agitated tone and then drew in a sharp breath when Geralt placed his hand on his hip. “Geralt, what the hell are you _doing?_ ”  
  
“Nothing,” Geralt said. It was nice how he could feel the bard’s hip bone curving under the skin.  
  
“I know you’re telling yourself that you’re just, and I quote you, _inspecting all my injuries,_ ” Jaskier said, “but let me tell you, that’s not what’s happening.”  
  
Geralt pulled his hand away. “It’s not?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, looking straight at him. “Geralt, do you want to fuck me?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. His face was flushed but his voice was almost steady. “That’s the question.”  
  
Geralt straightened his back and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“Because if you don’t,” Jaskier said, his voice quieter now, “if you’re just, I don’t know, teasing me, you should stop it. Or if you’re trying to figure out how you feel about all this, maybe you should stop undressing me and stoking me and cuddling me in your sleep until you know what you want. Because my heart’s been broken before and I don’t like it.”  
  
“I don’t…” Geralt began and then took a deep breath. “I don’t want to break your heart.”  
  
“People usually don’t, “ Jaskier said, “and it happens anyway. Geralt, why am I laying on my back in your bed, naked and, may I say, shivering?”  
  
Geralt thought about that. Perhaps his bard had a point. “Because I want to fuck you.”  
  
Jaskier sighed in what sounded like a relief. “You do?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Great. So -”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Jaskier frowned. “Are you going to -”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“When?”  
  
“I need to -,” Geralt said and took a deep breath. “We need to talk first.”  
  
His bard looked a little surprised. “Really? I always thought you wouldn’t be a talker in bed.”  
  
“I need to know how you like it.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and then reached to touch Geralt’s hand. Geralt stared as Jaskier tried to cover Geralt’s hand with his own and failed, because Geralt’s hands were much bigger. “Just so that you know, I like you a lot. And I trust you a lot. If you hadn’t told me to fuck off a while ago, I might have even said that I could be a little bit in love with you. As long as you try not to hurt me, I think we’ll be fine.”  
  
Geralt frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“I _know_ ,” Jaskier said slowly, “that’s why I think we’re going to be fine.”  
  
“But I might. I’m afraid my dick is quite big. So if we’re going to try to put it in your -”  
  
“Yes, we are,” Jaskier said, “we definitely are. And we’re going to use a lot of oil and it’s going to take a while and it’s going to be alright. But we should probably get started, because if just keep talking about it, I’m afraid I’m going to come before you get a chance to put your cock anywhere.”  
  
“Fine,” Geralt said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He was a little surprised that his bard was so quiet in bed. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to expect that his bard might, well, sing at some point of it, or at least hum a little, or drive Geralt mad with his constant talking. But certainly Geralt had a reason to worry when his bard didn’t say _anything._ He wanted to ask if everything was alright but couldn’t figure out how to say it, and also it seemed like the moment was wrong. He already had two fingers pushed inside a quite private part of his bard’s body. He was thinking about the situation when Jaskier suddenly stopped groaning and opened his eyes.  
  
“Why did you stop?”  
  
“Why aren’t you talking?”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “You want me to talk when you’re fucking me?”  
  
“I’m not fucking you yet,” Geralt said, “and you _always_ talk. I don’t know what’s going on in your head if you don’t talk.”  
  
Jaskier licked his lips. Geralt didn’t stare at his bard’s mouth. He had been wondering about kissing, though. Perhaps Jaskier didn’t want Geralt to kiss him. Perhaps Jaskier only wanted Geralt to fuck him and make him come and then hold him afterwards. Perhaps kissing wasn’t a part of the deal. Not that Geralt had been expecting that.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice, “you could kiss me.”  
  
Geralt swallowed. “I could?”  
  
“Yes, you idiot. Come on.”  
  
“I have my fingers in your -”  
  
“I know,” Jaskier said. “Get them out of there for a moment and kiss me. But don’t touch my face with that hand.”  
  
Geralt did what he had been told and kissed his bard.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re kissing me,” Jaskier said, his lips brushing against Geralt’s, “I just _can’t_ , this is like one of those incredibly wild dreams I had _all the time_ when we had just met and I had this _huge_ crush on you that I didn’t want you to know about, but I had hard time trying to hide it, and I’m not only talking about my dick, but that as well, because your clothes were so tight _all the time_ and I always found myself staring at your ass and having, you know, erections in very unwelcome situations, and I kind of thought you only saw me as a friend, and I thought you’d never fuck me, and I can’t believe this is happening, and how are you lips so _soft,_ Geralt, do you put _oil_ on them?”  
  
“Stop talking,” Geralt said.  
  
“Kiss me,” Jaskier said and apparently tried to grab Geralt’s arms but his hands were too small. “ _Bloody hell._ Kiss me, Geralt.”  
  
“I’m trying to. Can you just shut up -”  
  
“And fuck me,” Jaskier said. He sounded happy. “You asked me what I like. Well, let me tell you. I’m pretty sure I’m going to like having your dick in my ass. I’m sure it’ll be amazing. And a little uncomfortable. And you’ll be a little awkward, because Geralt, you aren’t always very _smooth._ We should work on that. But it’s fine because you look so good. And you have a big heart.”  
  
“I don’t have a big -”  
  
“And dick,” Jaskier said, “your dick is also -”  
  
Geralt pushed his two fingers back into his bard. Jaskier shut up with a surprised groan, which was exactly what Geralt had been aiming for. But he also liked the way Jaskier was looking at him, like it didn’t really matter what Geralt did or didn’t do or if he said the right things or the wrong things. His bard was going to sing a song about him anyway.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He told Jaskier to keep his hands off his dick and then fucked him as slowly as he could bear to. Jaskier was lying on his back in the bed they had shared two nights, and he was panting like an idiot, and he was the most lovable thing Geralt had ever met. He was so stupid and so sincere and so gentle. He had left when Geralt had told him to and then he had let Geralt bring him back and tend to his injuries and hold him in his arms. Geralt stopped to kiss him, and he wrapped his fingers around his own dick and came with a surprised moan.  
  
“I wasn’t done,” Geralt said, but it was difficult to sound disapproving when Jaskier was looking at him like that.  
  
“Oh, god,” Jaskier said. “Kiss me again. And you can… just keep fucking me. You didn’t yet…”  
  
“No,” Geralt said and kissed him again, “it’ll hurt you.” He pulled himself out and came into his own hand. It was perfect. Jaskier was breathing heavily in his arms and the room smelled of his very happy bard.  
  
Geralt placed a slow kiss on Jaskier’s neck and closed his eyes.  
  
“ _Toss a coin to your witcher -_ ,” Jaskier hummed.  
  
  
**  
  
  
**  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Where are we? How long until we’re there? Geralt, where are we _going?_ ”  
  
“Hmm,” Geralt said. They had ridden for half a day and his bard kept asking stupid questions. Even Roach was losing her patience.  
  
“ _Geralt._ Come on. If you tell me, I’ll let you have your way with me tonight.”  
  
Geralt snorted.  
  
“Don’t be like that. I’m not _a sure thing._ I _could_ say no. It’s just that this is relatively new to me, as you know. I’m still pretty excited that I can touch your dick and you only glare at me and don’t, I don’t know, cut my arm off. And the kissing, oh my god, the _kissing_ , so is it really my fault if I am a little easy for you? I want you, Geralt. I want you all the time. Except not now because I’m kind of tired. But anyway, tell me where we are going and I’ll be nice to you tonight in bed.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes, I know, I’m always nice to you. I can’t help it. Listen, have you ever thought of maybe getting a tiny house somewhere? A nice place where we could stay when we aren’t hunting monsters? And have I mentioned that I’d like to see the sea? I haven’t in a long time. Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I forgive you for dumping me.”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. That was… that was a relief. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Jaskier said. “Tell me where we are going.”  
  
The thing was, Geralt didn’t know where they were going. He was just happy that he had found his bard.


End file.
